


Grenade

by PuppyWillGraham



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: AU twist on canon elements, Angst, Brownham - one sided/unrequited love, He's the real catnip for killers, M/M, Mopey and kinda jealous Matthew, Poor Will - he just attracts all the psychopaths, Will just can't get Hannibal out of his head
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-03
Updated: 2014-04-03
Packaged: 2018-01-18 01:19:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1409713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuppyWillGraham/pseuds/PuppyWillGraham
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Why is it always him? What is it about him that's so...different; that has you wrapped around his little finger?" Matthew stared at him through the bars, even though he knew how much Will hated the attempted forced eye contact. He knew it made the prisoner feel like a trapped animal.</p><p>"I..." Will glanced off, feeling ultimately trapped in his little block of a cell, and uneasy. The attempt at eye contact didn't go unnoticed by him. "No matter how hard I try...I can't get Hannibal Lecter out of my head. I'm sorry."</p><p>He whispered the apology, as if the circumstances were entirely his own fault.</p><p>Matthew's brows furrowed, his eyes filling with something akin to despair, and he glanced away. Of course it wasn't Will's fault. And now he felt bad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grenade

_"Easy come, easy go,_

_That's just how you live, oh._

_Take, take, take it all,_

_But you never give_

_Should've known you was trouble_

_From the first kiss_

_Had your eyes wide open_

_Why were they open?--"_

 

Matthew Brown sighs as he sits in the staff office for the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, on his 15 minute break. The radio was on, and one of his colleagues -- what was his name again? -- was in charge of the music station choice. The radio wasn't on loud, but the song still struck him deep inside, within himself in a place he didn't even know existed.

There was only one face that flashed into his mind as the next verse started up.

 

_"--Gave you all I had_

_And you tossed it in the trash_

_You tossed it in the trash, you did_

_To give me all your love is all I ever asked_

_'Cause what you don't understand is...--"_

 

Will Graham. _Mr. Graham._

There was just something, _something_ about that man, who had managed to hook Matthew with his fleeting glances and half bitter smiles he dared to display now that he had nothing else to lose.

The orderly couldn't explain it. He just knew that he wanted to get closer to the man confined within the hospital walls, under his care.

 

_"--I'd catch a grenade for you (yeah, yeah, yeah)_

_Throw my hand on a blade for you (yeah, yeah, yeah)_

_I'd jump in front of a train for you (yeah, yeah, yeah)_

_You know I'd do anything for you (yeah, yeah, yeah)_

_Oh, I would go through all this pain_

_Take a bullet straight through my brain_

_Yes, I would die for you, baby_

_But you won't do the same."_

 

And, oh. _Oh_. Matthew would do absolutely _anything_ for the man on the opposite side of the bars. He knew without a doubt within his mind, that he would. All that Will had to do was breathe the words, and Matthew would be at his command.

He'd read over the empath's file so many times, _so many times_ , now. Sometimes, when he closed his eyes to sleep, he could see the words imprinted on the back of his eyelids, flashing like some kind of omen.

Without even realizing, at first, he would go so far as to do something as stupid as murder for the captured man.

 _Anything_.

 

_~x~_

 

The fifteen minutes of a break were soon up, and it was back to Matthew's shift. The song still resounded around the bone areas of his skull as he checked some of the other patients, taking his time. Mr. Graham was still in the interview room with Dr. Bloom, and Matthew wanted to make sure that he was the one who took the older man back to his cell.

Anything for the lingering touches through the prison jumpsuit. Anything for the subtle and slight brush of skin on skin of hands and fingers over wrists when unlocking chains. The touches were brief, but they weren't unnoticed, by either party involved.

Matthew briefly thought back to the last time Will had leaned back against the cell bars, exhausted, much like how he looked right now. Last time, Matthew had just watched, unblinking, wondering if he was actually seeing what he was seeing, or if it was just some trick of the light.

It wasn't. Will was, maybe unconsciously, inviting Matthew to step closer. He hadn't last time, thinking it was just some sort of test that he'd fail if he took the invitation.

But now he did. There was no guard on post, as it was the graveyard shift, and Matthew was the only orderly on duty. Gideon, who was in the next cell, was asleep. Even if he were awake, it wouldn't of mattered. No words were exchanged as Matthew pushed his hands through the bars to lightly brace them on Will's shoulders, who all but melted into the touch. Tension thrummed just below the surface, and Matthew would've done anything to be able to tug down the top half of the jumpsuit and remove the white undershirt so he could place his hand upon bare shoulders.

They stayed like that, silent, fingers slowly working the tension away, until Will seemed to come back to himself, mumbling something, a name,  _his name,_ \-- _Hannibal_ \-- under his breath, before the tension returned, almost ten fold, upon realization, and Matthew took a step back, then another, for good measure, unable to look even at the back of the other man. It hurt. He turned away, even if he did think he heard a soft, almost inaudible whine of his name.

He went home after that. He felt cold, right down to within his soul. Or what was left of it, at least; that's what it felt like.

 

_~x~_

 

Their next conversation took place the next morning, whilst Gideon was under a hypnosis treatment. It was risky, and rushed, and heated, but it was important.

"Why is it always him? What is it about him that's so...different; that has you wrapped around his little finger?" Matthew stared at him through the bars, even though he knew how much Will hated the attempted forced eye contact. He knew it made the prisoner feel like a trapped animal.

"I..." Will glanced off, feeling ultimately trapped in his little block of a cell, and uneasy. The attempt at eye contact didn't go unnoticed by him. "No matter how hard I try...I can't get Hannibal Lecter out of my head. I'm sorry."

He whispered the apology, as if the circumstances were entirely his own fault.

Matthew's brows furrowed, his eyes filling with something akin to despair, and he glanced away. Of course it wasn't Will's fault. And now he felt bad.

"Mr. Brown. Chilton wants to see you in his office," was what pulled him away before he could even attempt an apology for Will. He didn't miss the sorrowful glance as he risked a look over his shoulder before he stride down the hall and to his boss's office.

 

_~x~_

 

He was reprimanded, for spending far too much time and attention on Mr. Graham. Another patient had noticed Matthew's wavering attention. Or that's the excuse Chilton had used, which almost fell on deaf ears.

It didn't matter how much Chilton's creepiness even got to Matthew -- which was saying something, all things considered -- but what his boss was saying was right. He was obsessed with Will Graham. But that didn't mean he had to listen to what was being said right now. Not really.

"Is there a problem with this little meeting, Brown?" Chilton inquired, squirm-worthy ferret gaze seeking out the orderly's, ever so curious to hear the unreliable excuses and reasoning to flow from  Matthew's lips, which were currently set in a straight line. Probably the most serious expression to have ever crossed the younger man's face.

"No, sir. No problem. I apologize if my actions seem to be bordering over the top when providing care for one of our patients." He openly stared at Chilton then, and his boss actually huffed out a soft laugh. "Can I get back to work now?"

"Sure, Brown. But if I catch wind of you spending too much time in Will Graham's cell block, I'm afraid we may have to take a suspension into consideration. Understand?"

"Crystal clear, sir." Matthew rose to stand, the legs of the chair scraping across the floor in such a way that almost made Chilton's face scrunch up. Matthew smiled inwardly at the thought of getting under his boss's skin, rather than the other way around. "I will only spend as much time as is necessary and required in that cell block. Oh, send my apologies to the patient my actions offended. Please."

And with that being said, he strolled out of the office, the promise of spending less time near Will Graham as much a lie as why the prisoner was in here in the first place.

 

_~x~_

 

Word got around -- in hushed whispers between the guards and other orderlies and patients -- about the words exchanged between Chilton and Brown, although nobody owned up to being the first pair of ears to eavesdrop.

But Matthew was nowhere to be found. He didn't want to hear himself being the center of gossip, and he didn't want to see Will's face of disappointment at not being careful enough.

He ended up taking the rest of the day off, much to Chilton's acceptance of the notion, and he ended up in a lousy, dingy bar on the outskirts of Baltimore, trying to drink to forget Will's mind and eyes as they flashed into his mind.

He was obsessed. He was _obsessed_.

He didn't know when it had first started, but he suddenly wanted Will. He wanted Will so badly.

Wanted to hold him in his arms, slide his fingers over the other man's bared flesh; wanted their lips to press together, fight for dominance that he'd let Will have, no matter what, just as long as he was able to give it to the empath; wanted their bodies to mold and press and slide together.

But that was impossible; thanks to Dr. Hannibal Lecter. Granted, he never would've known about Will Graham if these events hadn't conspired beforehand, but this seemed much worse. If Dr. Lecter just _hadn't_ done _any of it_ then he wouldn't be have become obsessed with Mr. Graham -- _because that was the problem_ \--and wanted him so badly when he couldn't have him.

It wasn't possible.

He felt despair and darkness and angst spread through him, his composure wracked with guilt and ill feelings, the drink not doing anything for his self worth. He wanted what he couldn't have. He wanted what he could never have. At least not whilst Hannibal Lecter was alive. He openly sobbed into his fourth glass of vodka mixed with nothing else but his tears.

He only stopped when the jukebox was switched on and that familiar song halted his mind in their hideous thoughts.

 

_"But, darling, I'd still catch a grenade for you,_

_Throw my hand on a blade for yo,._

_I'd jump in front of a train for you,_

_You know I'd do anything for you.  
_

_Oh, I would go through all this pain,_

_Take a bullet straight through my brain,_

_Yes, I would die for you, baby,_

_But you won't do the same._

_No, you won't do the same._

_You wouldn't do the same._

_Oh, you'd never do the same._

_Oh, no no no!"_

 

 

He wiped away the tears with the sleeve of his jacket, and couldn't stop the slight grin slowly gracing his lips. He suddenly knew what he had to do. He had to kill the bailiff, who would be at Will's trial, which was in a couple of day's time.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading; comments, kudos and bookmarks make me smile


End file.
